


Irrepressible

by tonberry



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, No cheating, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Series Compliant, jj is awkward but he always tries his best, jj/isabella is present but not permanent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-11-30 19:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11470446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonberry/pseuds/tonberry
Summary: For as long as he can remember, JJ has wanted to be liked.(He's not very good at it.)





	Irrepressible

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rovio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rovio/gifts).



> Rovio, I hope you enjoy it! <3 I was really happy to get a chance to try writing JJBek, so thank you for leaving such a lovely letter full of ideas.
> 
> I wrote the majority of this before the guide book came out, so some of the extra info is not included. On the other hand, I was amazed how much of it actually matched. Please overlook any skating/event related errors:')

For as long as he can remember, JJ has wanted to be liked. No, that's not quite right - he's constantly had a compulsive _need_ to be liked. Forever there inside him, simmering under his skin, irrepressible. If he's being honest, he'll admit he's always failed at reading people. It's not been easy; by the time he was fifteen he'd already lost count of the number of times he'd thought someone was his friend, only to find out later they apparently couldn't stand him, usually second-hand. It always hurt, but he grew good at pretending otherwise. And often if you pretend for long enough, you can convince yourself of anything.

There are, however, a few choice humiliations in his life he's not quite been able to forget. His earliest is perhaps the time in third grade when he'd finally started to feel as though he might belong. All his friends had told him that the girl he had a crush on _definitely_ liked him back - and so it was he’d ended up in front of the entire class with a grubby fistful of flowers he'd picked outside at break time, asking her to be his girlfriend. It had seemed romantic and dramatic at the time (hey, he was only eight years old) but the look of disgust and embarrassment on her face had disagreed. He still vividly remembers standing there, heat creeping up the back of his neck, palms sweaty around the stalks of wilting flowers. His friends' laughter, quiet at first, growing louder as others joined in. But he'd grinned anyway, pretending to be in on it, and ignored the prickle of tears that threatened to well up.

Yeah, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to wipe that memory with force of will alone.

And then there’s Otabek Altin, who will forever be the person who saw JJ fall face-first into the ice after a failed quad. He still doesn’t even know how he did it – perhaps he’d managed to catch the pick awkwardly - but it _doesn’t even matter_ because when he’d pushed himself to his knees, shoulder aching and nose bleeding profusely, Altin had been right there in front of him, offering him a hand up. They’d never spoken before. Altin had arrived a week prior to train at the same rink, and it had soon become clear that he was there for one reason, and one reason only. JJ didn’t think he’d ever even seen this new guy smile.

So he stared up at the proffered hand with the iron tang of blood flooding his mouth, and the familiar creep of hot humiliation up his spine. Because this guy was _good_ ; even if they’d never talked, JJ had been watching him. He’d certainly never seen Altin eat ice as badly as he’d just done.

“All right?” Altin’s voice was quiet, concerned, and really fucking pleasant sounding. JJ gripped his hand without thinking, and allowed himself to be hoisted to his feet. Everything hurt. “You should take a break and get checked over.”

He wiped at his face with the back of his hand, and tried not to grimace when it came away smeared with blood. Was Altin laughing at him inside? Maybe. So he did what came naturally, and grinned - undoubtedly baring his bloody teeth in a repulsive manner. Altin didn’t even flinch, dark eyes placid. He didn’t _look_ amused, but JJ no longer took people at face value.

“I’m just peachy.” His voice was too loud, too forced, too genial – but the longer Altin stared at him, the more his mortification grew. He’d been getting pretty good at ignoring other people’s opinions of him, but in that moment, he’d felt eight years old again. “Thanks, though.”

He skated back to the rink-side exit where his parents were waiting impatiently, not even daring to look back. Somehow it felt like Altin’s gaze remained on him, crawling over his skin like an unbearable itch. Those fucking eyes. Had there been laughter in them? JJ suddenly couldn’t even remember any more, and it bothered him.

So, as first meetings go, theirs had been pretty fucking horrific – at least from JJ’s point of view – though things had improved a little from there. They became formally acquainted, at least, and for some reason JJ started thinking of him as _Otabek_ in his head, even though they weren’t really friends. It wasn’t as though they never talked. Otabek was a reticent and singularly focused skater, but he was also extremely polite. JJ’s parents loved him; _he’s such a_ nice boy _, JJ, why don’t you make friends with him? Maybe he’s lonely here in Canada!_

Maybe. But Otabek was always just so damn _cool_ that JJ had a hard time imagining it. Generally the only chances they had to talk were after practice, on the rare occasions that they finished at a similar time. JJ tended to dread and look forward to those moments in equal amounts. Pros: JJ got to see him half naked, and though he didn’t care to examine those feelings further, he had really developed a thing for Otabek’s back. They eventually got around to talking, too, once one of them broke the awkward silence. Cons: JJ got to feel like a pervy creep, and inevitably ended up convinced that he’d run his mouth off.

Somehow it was still worth it. Through rambling on about his favourite band and recent attempts to learn the guitar, he’d discovered that Otabek was really into music, too. Not exactly the same genres, but JJ chose to think of it as a bonding moment anyway. (Then shortly after that, Otabek had politely declined his invitation to go see a concert with him one night – which had been a laugh and try to forget moment, for sure.) But there had been – something. A few months of almost-friendship, though JJ had never managed to see Otabek smile. They’d started talking more while on the rink, even helping each other with jumps. A few months of thinking, _hey, maybe he doesn’t secretly want me to fuck off_ , and _is it weird that I want to feel up his back, maybe his ass?_

As it turned out, he wasn’t the only pervert. He’d just been sitting there, tugging off his skates, appreciating his usual favourite view of Otabek’s damp, muscled back and round ass, and okay – _maybe_ he’d spaced out, and _maybe_ he hadn’t been in the least bit subtle, but then he’d blinked and realised Otabek’s accusing gaze was now on him. He shifted, pants suddenly uncomfortable, because _fuck_ he was seventeen and his body hated him. Looking back, perhaps if he’d lowered his eyes, looked away, pretended he hadn’t just been shamelessly staring, Otabek might have let it go, and things would have gone on as normal. But he hadn’t – he’d frozen, and Otabek’s eyes had remained fixed on his as he shut his locker with a quiet, calm click and started to approach, still wearing nothing but a fucking towel.

JJ stiffened; Otabek didn’t _seem_ like the violent type, but you could never really tell. Even though he wasn’t a big guy, getting into a fight was the last thing he wanted right now. But what if he said something to someone? What if—

He hadn’t expected Otabek to come to a stop with his dick mere inches from JJ’s face, looking down at him with the same impassive expression he never knew how to read. So he’d done what he always did in new or uncomfortable situations – faked it. He grinned and tilted his head back, raising an eyebrow, hoping Otabek would give him _something_ to go on.

“Problem?”

Otabek’s expression flickered then, dark eyes narrowing, and it occurred to JJ just how alone they were in here; his voice seemed so loud in the silence.

“You were looking at me.” A simple statement, but JJ thought he could hear curiosity in it, rather than anger. His eyes slid back down to what was right in front of him; Otabek was now obviously hard, too. He swallowed, mouth dry, unable to stop thinking about what Otabek might do if JJ put his mouth on it. That must be why he’d come over, right? Part of him wanted to laugh it off, to stand up and act like the idea of having a guy’s dick down his throat didn’t make him uncomfortably hot. But the rest of him…

“And so what? That a crime or something?” No denying it now. He grinned wider as the little furrow between Otabek’s brows smoothed out. It wasn’t a smile, but it was something. Then one of Otabek’s hands was in his hair, fingers running through it, tugging on the back in a way that made his stomach twist.

“Do you want it or not?”

JJ had no idea what he was doing, but Otabek was obviously genuine, and horniness won out over pride and he licked his lips. “Yeah.”

Which was insane, really; doing this in a semi-public locker room where anyone could walk in. But there was a pink flush to Otabek’s cheeks as he pushed the towel off with his free hand that was actually fucking adorable. And then Otabek was pulling on his hair and guiding his dick into JJ’s mouth, pushing in with a low groan that JJ hadn’t imagined him capable of making. His hands automatically went out to grip Otabek’s hips, the skin hot and damp beneath his rough fingertips. It was an overwhelming mess of saliva and struggling to breathe, but somehow he didn’t choke even as Otabek began to fuck his mouth at a faster pace. When one of the hands in his hair slid down to grip the back of his neck, massaging gently, he couldn’t hold back anymore and reached down to palm himself roughly, because he was so fucking close, just from this.

JJ wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but Otabek stiffening and coming in his mouth with a soft grunt being the thing to set him off had not been it. But the shock of it hitting the back of his throat, bitter and warm, of being unable to move because of the strong hands gripping his head, made him arch up under the flat of his own palm and fall apart, Otabek’s softening dick still in his mouth.

It was like coming down from some weird high, as Otabek pulled back and reached down to grab his towel again, the fingertips of his other hand running softly down JJ’s jaw. JJ swallowed, wincing at the soreness in his throat, and wiped his face on his sleeve. He didn’t even want to think about what he looked like, instead settling for stretching and avoiding making eye contact. This was fine, right? They were still cool, this was just—

“Do you need…?”

Reluctantly he looked up again, shame burning hot under his skin. “Nah, I…” _I came in my pants like a thirteen-year-old, because for some reason you manhandling and face-fucking me is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me._ “I’m good.” He smiled brightly and stood up, feeling a little better somehow now that he stood over Otabek, and winked, trying to ignore the nausea pooling in his stomach. “I’m going to go take a shower.” Otabek’s mouth thinned and JJ realised they hadn’t even kissed. Dick, meet mouth, no foreplay required. Was that fucked up? Probably. He had no experience to measure this against. Maybe it was normal. “See you tomorrow, eh?” Otabek nodded, face blank, knuckles almost white where he was clutching his towel to him.

JJ fled.

And then the next week Otabek was suddenly gone, _back to Almaty_ , he heard, and JJ figured the fact that Otabek hadn’t bothered telling him said it all. He didn’t even have Otabek’s number. He immediately found and followed him on instagram, though, and hoped that didn’t make him look _too_ desperate.

A week later, Otabek followed him back.

The months passed, and the only contact they had was via small, bland comments on photos or inconspicuous likes. JJ’s fanbase grew, he met Isabella, and thought he realised – maybe for the first time – what it was really like to have a true friend. She was beautiful, kind, and believed in him like no-one other than his parents ever had. And while they didn’t sleep together (that was fine, right? He had his reasons, she had hers; it just wasn’t their thing, no big deal) it made their parents happy. She even let him use her as a cover for all the sappy romance movies he secretly liked to watch. Things were good, mostly. He worked really fucking hard at his jumps, because he was determined to be the best. _Needed_ to be the best. Prove that he wasn’t someone to be laughed at, that he would make his family and country proud.

There were still those nights, though, when he would think of Otabek and come messily all over himself in the dark. He wondered if Otabek thought of him, too. (Doubtful, if he was honest.) But he still found himself missing their talks, and that weird almost-friendship he’d never managed to bring himself to push for, or ask to continue.

Somehow it wasn’t until the Grand Prix Final in Barcelona almost two years later that they ran into each other again. JJ had been keeping up with Otabek’s career, of course; he had to keep track of all those who seemed like serious competition. Otabek had a lot of potential – he hadn’t won silver at Worlds and shared the podium with Victor Nikiforov for no reason. It was definitely nothing to do with the now-distant blowjob. Or the fact that he’d developed what some might call a fixation on that cute little semi-permanent frown, and it had become something of a dumb game, trying to spot the rare occasions when it _almost_ relaxed into a smile.

He’d watched Otabek take silver at Skate America, and it had been well deserved – but he hoped he’d try to step up his program, because as it was JJ knew he could beat him no problem. He’d watched him stand there on the podium, flag in front of him like a shield, faint frown present and accounted for. Fuck, JJ really wanted to see him smile.

He also needed to get over his stupid obsession, like, yesterday.

What he hadn’t entirely been expecting was for their first meeting in forever to be such an utter embarrassment. Otabek had practically looked through him, like having dinner _alone_ would beat spending time with JJ. He’d felt the familiar spike of humiliation in his stomach and knew his smile must have faltered. Isabella had squeezed his hand and dragged him away.

That night, he gave in and messaged Otabek on Instagram.

_meet me tomorrow!!!_

It was late. Otabek was probably sleeping. _He_ should be sleeping. But as soon as he set his phone down, a reply came back.

_Why?_

Why. Didn’t that just fucking say it all. Well, fake it ‘til you make it.

_tomorrow, the hotel bar, 8pm!!! don’t mess up on your skate tomorrow!!!_

He shoved his phone under his pillow without waiting for an answer.

It was probably for the best that they didn’t have ice time together during warmups, or he wasn’t sure he would have been able to stay focused. And how dumb was that? They weren’t – they weren’t anything. And JJ had a contest to win.

(JJ didn’t win.)

In fact, he had fucked up spectacularly in front of the entire world. And now he wanted to get drunk. Bad idea, _really_ bad idea with the free skate tomorrow, but it was hard to bring himself to care. By nine pm he was on his fourth beer, still alone, but feeling the sting of his monumental fuckup a little less.

He’d been about to get up and leave when Otabek finally walked through the door, in the same assholishly cool shades and jacket as the previous day. JJ watched him scan the room, and raised his beer in a mock salute as he approached.

“Didn’t think you’d come!”

Otabek slid into the seat beside him and finally took off the shades, setting them down on the bar. He raised an eyebrow. “Are you drunk?”

JJ grinned at him. “Wouldn’t you be? After that—after that goddamn…” When he felt his smile slipping he took another long drink. “Whatever, I’m fucked anyway. Why are you even here, eh? Thought you were chasing after Plisetsky now.” He watched Otabek’s dark eyes narrow, though he didn’t respond, just signalled the bartender for a whisky. Silence. JJ had always been uncomfortable in silence. So he opened his big mouth again. “I mean, I don’t blame you. He’s cute – that temper, though…”

“He’s fifteen.” Otabek sounded pissed, and the cute little furrow between his brows was back.

JJ shrugged. “I’m just saying, I think he’d be up for it.”

“Not familiar with the concept of friendship?”

 _Ouch_. That cut a little too deep. He hadn’t drunk enough to spill his guts, though, so he just laughed, like Otabek was being ridiculous. “What, you don’t fuck around with friends?”

“No.” Otabek’s drink arrived and he nodded in thanks, before taking a sip. The fingers of his free hand tapped thoughtfully against the bar. “I don’t. It just complicates things.”

 _Yeah, it fucking does._ In fact, he wasn’t even sure what to say to that. Wait, no, yes he fucking was.

“So I guess we were never friends then, eh? Thanks for the confirmation.” He downed the last of his beer and ran a hand through his hair. “I should go, I need to sleep this off.”

“Wait,” Otabek’s hand caught his arm as he made to stand up. “Why is it you wanted to meet me?”

JJ shot him an incredulous look. “Seriously? You disappear from Canada without saying a word, and then wonder why I wanted to see you? After—” He exhaled and signalled for another beer. Fuck it. What was one more gonna do?

“You seemed to panic.” Otabek looked oddly confused, like he couldn’t quite comprehend why JJ might have wanted to see the guy he got off with again. “I assumed you wouldn’t want to be reminded of it.” His expression darkened. “But then you messaged me last night. Does your fiancée know?”

It took a moment for JJ to process the implication of that, and his mouth dropped open. “Is that why you gave me a fuckin’ death stare right before my short? You thought I was hitting you up for some ass?”

“You weren’t?” Otabek levelled him with an unimpressed stare. “Then why? You still haven’t explained.”

“I hadn’t even… that isn’t…” He accepted his new beer blindly and clutched the chill glass between his hands, staring at the condensation as it rolled slowly down. But had that been at the back of his mind? Had some part of him hoped, _maybe, maybe_? Now that he thought about it, perhaps Otabek was right. Fuck, he was a horrible human being. “That’s not what I meant.” He spoke to his glass, because it sounded pathetic even to his own ears. “I thought we were friends, okay? But since you already corrected me on that, I guess it sounds stupid saying I just wanted to hang out.” The alcohol was really starting to hit him now; he should have stopped a long time ago. “I guess I liked you.” _Quit running your mouth, JJ, he doesn’t want to hear this shit._ “I’ve thought about you a lot, okay? Obviously, it meant nothing to you and that’s cool, I get it, but apparently it meant something to _me_ because it never fucking left my mind _._ ”

He only looked up again when he felt Otabek prising the beer from his hands and pushing it away. “JJ.” And what was with—why did Otabek have to look so _sad_ , like he actually cared for once. “You have a _fiancée_.”

“Yeah,” JJ smiled at that, “she’s my best friend. Did you see her cheering for me? No one else cares about me that much.”

“So,” Otabek paused, seeming to choose his words carefully, “you’re in love with her? In that case you should just forget about me.”

JJ’s chest felt hollow. “Of course I love her. I don’t know about being _in_ love. I haven’t really…”

_I’ve never really thought about it._

“Do you sleep with her?” So fucking blunt. And also none of Otabek’s business.

He groped for his beer again but found it pushed further out of reach. “I don’t know why you think that’s relevant,” he muttered. He eyed Otabek’s whisky; perhaps he should just steal that instead.

“Maybe it is, maybe it’s not. If you’re both happy with the way things are that’s fine, right?”

JJ’s head was starting to spin. He closed his eyes, trying to focus. Otabek didn’t understand. All he could say was, “but I need her.”

“With the act you put on, you make it seem like you don’t need anyone.” JJ couldn’t bring himself to reply. Otabek held out his hand. “Give me your phone.” JJ looked up in surprise, fumbling it out of his pocket and handing it over wordlessly. Otabek tapped at the screen for a moment before tossing it back. “Friends, yeah?”

Was this it, then? JJ swallowed, throat suddenly tight. _Right, friends, I get it. Because he doesn’t fuck friends._ He plastered on his best camera-ready smile. “Sure, I’ll text you.” When he stood up his stool scraped against the floor loudly. “Good luck tomorrow.”

He made to leave, but Otabek’s hand caught his arm once more. “You too. I…” There was a pause, and Otabek’s fingers tightened around him almost painfully. “I don’t know what happened out there today, but everyone knows you can do better. So prove it tomorrow.”

“Of course I will!” It came to him easily, like slipping on a well-worn costume. “King JJ hasn’t given up his crown just yet.” A wink, a jaunty half-salute, and Otabek finally loosened his grip with the faintest hint of a rueful smile. And there it was – not much of a smile, but it was one meant just for him. He tucked it away inside of him, and left the bar without looking back.

Back in his room, JJ sat alone on his bed, darkness pressing in around him. He scrolled through the contacts on his phone looking for a new one, and found it: _Beka_.

_it’s me. good luck with your free!!!_

He hit send and then hesitated before adding to it.

_(jean)_

He wasn’t sure why he added that; nobody called him that anymore, not even his parents. JJ was half-asleep when the reply came: a single crown emoji.

\-----

In the end he somehow made the podium. Otabek didn’t. At the banquet, he kept close to Isabella, resisting the urge to drink his body weight in champagne; he didn’t trust himself drunk at the moment. His gaze kept flickering back to Otabek, deep in conversation with Plisetsky. It was hard to believe it was really just friendship going on there; that exhibition had been… something else. Otabek standing there as cool as the ice, so in control it had made JJ want to drop to his knees again.

And as he gripped Isabella’s hand tightly, he wondered what it would’ve been like if he’d been able to get Otabek to join his exhibition. What it might be like to have Otabek stride up to him, be grabbed by the tie and jerked down into a kiss. What it might be like to wake up next to him, there to reach out to at any time. What would a life like that be like?

Impossible, that’s what. They were _friends_ now, after all.

Towards the end of the evening, Otabek wandered over to bid him goodnight. Plisetsky hovered not too far behind, eyes narrowed and looking like nothing would please him better than if JJ were to drop dead right there.

(JJ smiled and blew him a kiss.)

They parted with nothing more than a promise to keep in touch, and the assumption they would meet again at Four Continents.

\-----

Two weeks later Isabella had broken up with him. Maybe he’d been too obvious. He’d cried; she hadn’t. She’d held him and told him, _be happy_ , and, _I love you but I don’t think this is what I want, either_. He’d wanted to protest that he had been happy, but the words wouldn’t come. She’d always been the one with real bravery, nothing manufactured like his.

A few weeks of lapsed concentration had followed, with a rate of failed jumps that was simply unacceptable. Battered and aching, inside as well as out. His parents veered between pity and frustration that he wasn’t over it already. But he could do this, he _had_ to. Four Continents was imminent, and he had no intention of standing below Katsuki this time. Or anyone, for that matter. He avoided social media because he didn’t want to see the endless speculation, all while knowing his absence was making it worse.

Sometimes, Otabek sent him cats. They weren’t his, it turned out; he just had a soft spot for strays. There was a black one with pale eyes that Otabek informed him he had named _Jean_. The cat was rather scrawny and pathetic looking, so frankly JJ didn’t see the resemblance. But sometimes Otabek would send photos of Jean curled up asleep in his lap, and JJ would feel a twinge of jealousy that a fucking cat had achieved what he had not. There was a ginger tabby, too, that unsurprisingly was named Yuri.

_do you just have an army of strays named after skaters or something???_

All he received in response was a close-up, slightly blurred photo of cat-Yuri glaring angrily out of his screen.

Occasionally they skyped, when their schedules and the time difference aligned. JJ didn’t mention Isabella, and Otabek didn’t ask. But he let JJ ramble on about music and his charity work, and even seemed genuinely interested. Otabek told him about Almaty, and the clubs he was DJing at on the rare occasions he could find the time. It was easier when Otabek didn’t answer his calls straight out of the shower, hair still damp and curling, towel draped over his shoulders. During _those_ calls it was too tempting to get distracted remembering what had happened the last time he’d seen Otabek in a towel.

“I’m fine, I can do it,” he’d told Otabek while waving a hand dismissively, “just you watch me.”

Otabek’s eyes had lingered on his naked ring finger, mouth a thin line. “If you say so.”

In the end, though, he didn’t medal at all. Otabek made gold, and JJ scraped fourth. He was frustrated with himself, and humiliated that he couldn’t make good on his words. True, it could have been worse, but he hated feeling like he was trying to claw his way back up a cliff he’d already conquered. Too used to knowing Isabella was in the stands, too used to her last-minute hugs and whispers that she believed in him. She had texted him, of course, promising to call him later – because they _were_ still friends, but it wasn’t the same. He had always skated for his parents, for Isabella, for the friends he could rely on back home, for Canada… but he was beginning to realise that he needed to be skating for himself, too.

JJ really didn’t feel like celebrating, and as such ended up shut away in his hotel room, watching shitty local TV in a language he didn’t understand. He’d sent Otabek a message earlier ( _congrats!!! you deserved it – nice salchow, bet you’re glad you met me, eh??_ ) and hadn’t received any reply. But of course he wouldn’t, Otabek would be out celebrating just as JJ would have done. Fuck, this self-pity wasn’t like him. He could be better, he _would_ be better, and he would prove it at Worlds.

Eyes tired and barely focused, he was still flipping through channels aimlessly when a heavy knock sounded at his door. Maybe he should ignore it – he glanced at the clock and, wow, it was after one am. Why the hell would anyone be banging on his door at this time of night? But the noise persisted, and he turned off the TV, getting up fully prepared to tell whoever it was to go fuck themselves.

The problem with that plan was that when he opened the door, he wasn’t expecting it to be Otabek on the other side.

“Jean.”

Otabek looked the same as always, composure still in place, but the moment he spoke JJ knew he was wasted.  He hesitated. “Uh, are you okay? Do you—”

“Can I come in?” The interruption came as though Otabek hadn’t even heard him, staring just past JJ’s shoulder with slightly unfocused eyes. His hair was messy, like he’d run his hands through it too many times.

“Sure.” JJ took a step back, opening the door a little wider. Otabek strode in like he might not get another chance. “Maybe you should sit down, I’ll get you some water.”

But he’d hardly even closed the door behind them before Otabek was crowding him up against it, cheeks flushed, dark gaze fixed on JJ’s mouth. Otabek didn’t touch him, though, just stood motionless, lips parted, and he was so close JJ could smell cigarette smoke and leather.

“I made a mistake,” Otabek said abruptly, and his voice was thick with a frustration JJ had never heard there before. He felt off-balance, like he’d missed a conversation somewhere.

“Your skate was amazing, so don’t beat yourself up over it, eh?”

“No,” Otabek was frowning now, and finally looked up at him searchingly. “I made a mistake with you, with being your friend.”

JJ’s stomach dropped, unease prickling up his spine in an all too familiar way. Had he somehow fucked this up, too? He didn’t know what to say, so he just smiled, and with it something in Otabek’s expression changed. A flicker of softness, and with it his gaze dropped to JJ’s mouth again.

“Can I kiss you?”

JJ froze. He… what?

“I… yeah?”

The door was cold on his back through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, but when Otabek grabbed the front of it and jerked him down into a kiss, all he could focus on was the heat of Otabek’s mouth. It was messy and wet, and JJ had no idea what to do with his hands, but he could taste the whisky on Otabek’s tongue and suddenly _wanted_ so badly it hurt. When Otabek finally released him, his eyes were closed and he was actually smiling, fingers still curled in the fabric of JJ’s shirt. But it was a strange smile, and JJ pushed his hair back nervously, needing something to do with his hands, rapidly feeling the compulsion to fill the growing silence.

“Was… was that okay?”

Shit, why ask that? He sounded like a kid with a stupid crush. Which, okay, maybe wasn’t so far from the truth.

As usual, Otabek didn’t seem bothered by silence and took his time before replying, finally opening his eyes. “You know where our priorities are. I told you, I didn’t want to complicate things.”

All JJ could think of was the long-distant blowjob, of the stupid cat messages and the skype calls where he’d wanted to lick the beads of shower water from Otabek’s neck. “It was already complicated.”

Otabek grimaced and let his hand trail down JJ’s chest, turning away to walk unsteadily towards the bed. JJ took a deep breath. What the fuck were they doing? What was this?

“I’ll get you that water,” he said, voice loud in the quiet of the hotel room, and ducked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. _Get it together_. He rinsed his face with cold water and filled a glass, fixing his smile in place under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights.

When he finally left the bathroom, confidence precariously in place, Otabek was already sprawled out on the bed, snoring softly. It was a strange disconnect, seeing him like this; in sleep he looked far more relaxed than JJ had ever seen him in conversation. Brow smooth and mouth slack, lips slightly parted. He set the water down on the bedside table and lay down awkwardly, feeling as though he was witnessing something he hadn’t been given permission to see. Where did this leave them? He turned over to face the wall, a guilty thrum of arousal still humming under his skin, ghosts of the kiss still on his lips. It took a long time for sleep to come.

When JJ awoke, he was alone, the sheets beside him cold.

\-----

For once, it wasn’t JJ who made contact first. Mostly because he hadn’t had the time – he’d certainly been _thinking_ about it, and may or may not have been composing messages in his head on the flight back – but it hadn’t been him. In retrospect, he was quite proud of that. He’d turned his phone back on after touching down in Canada, and the usual flood of notifications had come in. One, of course, had stood out among the others, because for some reason he'd become particularly good at picking out Beka's name among all the rest. But he let the message sit there unopened as he waited for his luggage, instead thumbing through instagram absently, trying to concentrate on the fact that it was probably about time he upped his selfie game again.

It remained unopened on the drive home as he stared out of the window at scenery flashing past, fingers drumming mindlessly against his thigh. Definitely not thinking of... nah, fuck it, he was still thinking about it. And if he wasn't such a coward he would have opened the text as soon as he'd seen it. But he wasn’t stupid; no matter what had happened between them (or, more exactly, what had _almost_ happened), Beka was the one who had fucked off in the morning without saying anything. And while JJ was optimistic to a fault, even he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that said, _congrats, you somehow managed to mess up even this friendship, too._ After all, he was the common factor, right?

Coming back to his apartment after a trip always felt strange. It was just his space, now; he rarely had visitors anymore, and he’d been upping his hours at the rink so it was barely more than a place to collapse and sleep. He stood there at the entrance to the living room, suitcase behind him, struck by how generic, how void of personality it seemed. He knew it was totally at odds with the way he put himself out there, but this was a place no one else needed to see. After Bella, he’d thrown out a lot that he’d never replaced. What he did have, though, were gifts and decorations from fans scattered about; a handmade crown-shaped ‘JJ’ magnet holding some letters to the fridge door, a banner of support he’d draped over the back of the sofa.

He _should_ really update his Instagram. Instead, he tapped out a quick tweet about being happy to be home and ready to work hard, and headed to his bedroom to crawl under cool, slightly musty bedsheets. It was only after texting his parents to confirm what time he’d be at the rink the next day that he finally scrolled down to find Otabek’s message.

_Sorry. I shouldn’t have behaved that way. You deserve a friend with more self-control._

JJ wanted to punch him. Seriously? How the fuck had Otabek come to that conclusion?

_are you serious??? did you somehow miss the part where i liked it???_

He’d already hit send before it occurred to him that, just maybe, he could have come up with something a little less desperate-sounding.

_i know you like me now so might as well admit it!!!_

He frowned at his screen. That had sounded smooth and confident in his head, but significantly less so when he read it over again, screen glowing mockingly back at him in the darkness. Actually, it sounded positively childish. Fuck. The messages remained unread. Maybe he should call? No. Absolutely not. He rolled over and shoved his phone under his pillow. If he wanted to take gold at Worlds, he needed to get serious. Tempting as it was, fucking around with Otabek and getting distracted by _maybes_ would do absolutely nothing for his skating. He still had a lot to prove to himself.

The next morning, he awoke to new cat photo from Otabek, and a message he tried not to read too much into.

_Why? It doesn’t change anything. Don’t screw up your training, your jumps are almost there again._

It was true, of course. This was what they all lived for, this was the reason they sweat and ached and bled. Everything else was secondary. But that wasn't to say they couldn't have anything else, just... there was a time and a place. He knew that.

So he increased his hours at the rink, lengthened his runs, danced until his muscles ached with the stretch. He'd barely even realised a month had passed until one night he received another cat from Otabek, this one accompanied by, _are you angry?_

_no, just busy. tired. i mean, you said it. we've got to focus. i don't intend to lose again._

The message flagged as read, and a few minutes passed before he saw Otabek typing.

 _Don't overdo it, ok? I don't trust you to be sensible_.

In return, he just sent a selfie of himself winking and saluting the camera.

The reply was instant. _You look like shit. Get some sleep._

_i'd sleep better after seeing a pic of your smiling face!!_

Hey, it was worth a try. Instead, he received a photo that consisted mostly of Otabek's middle finger. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about the strength of those fingers tangled in the front of his shirt, pulling him down. But Otabek was thousands of miles away and JJ was alone, with nothing for company but his own hand.

Two weeks before Worlds, Otabek skyped him. In the middle of the night. He stumbled out of bed, stubbing his toe in the darkness as he fumbled for his laptop.

"Something wrong?" He knew he sounded sleep-rough and irritated, but his mind was only half awake. He slid into the cold chair by his desk, squinting into the light of the screen as Otabek's face appeared, eyes widening as he took in JJ’s appearance.

"I didn't even think about the time."

He looked so stricken JJ couldn't help but grin. "No shit." He yawned and patted down his hair, absently trying to smooth the tufts that stubbornly refused to lie flat. "So what's up? It's been a while, eh?"

Otabek's expression softened, and he smiled ruefully. "It has. I... I guess I just wanted to talk before Worlds. Make sure you’re not overworking yourself into an injury or early retirement.”

“I’m good,” JJ said, and only realised how true the words were once they had left his mouth. “Yeah, it’s been hard, but I _know_ you’re not in a position to lecture me about that – you trained here, remember? I’ve seen how you do things.”

Otabek actually laughed, then shrugged with a lopsided smile that made JJ’s throat tighten. “Hey, I’m on a break right now. Like a good, sensible skater. And I’m eating properly. You look like you’ve lost weight.”

JJ reached up to touch his face reflexively. Did he really look that different? “I guess I have, but it’s not a problem. My nutritionist said I’m still all clear.” He yawned again, and saw Otabek frown. Shit, he wanted the smile back.

“You should go back to sleep, sorry I woke you.”

“Nah, it’s fine. It’s only…” He glanced down at the clock. “Uh, three am.”

Otabek looked guilty again. “Yeah, okay, I’m gonna go. I’d better reassure Yuri you’re alive, anyway.”

“What?” JJ laughed in disbelief, “are you joking? He hates me for some reason.”

“ _For some reason_.” Otabek repeated, voice flat, though it looked like he was holding back a smile. “If it reassures you, he claims it’s just because it’s not satisfying to beat you when you’re down.”

JJ grinned. “Well, you can tell him I’m looking forward to beating his pretty ass at Worlds.”

Otabek raised an eyebrow. “I might rephrase. Now go back to sleep.”

“You say that like you’re not the one who woke me up.” He blew Otabek a kiss and shut down the connection without waiting for a response. Suddenly, it felt like Worlds couldn’t get here fast enough.

\-----

He ended up beating Plisetsky’s score by a single point. And, okay, _maybe_ he cried a bit on the podium (later that evening, Yuri had described it as _sobbing pitifully_ , but that was clearly jealously talking, in JJ’s opinion) and _maybe_ he’d kept his medal on all night and refused to take it off even when his parents offered to keep it safe – but no one could blame him for that, right?

And sure, maybe he also got stupidly drunk and stood on a table declaring his love for everyone in the room (while possibly crying some more), but his memory was a little unclear on that point. Regardless, this all meant that when he woke up the next morning, it was with one of the worst fucking hangovers of his life. And Otabek, apparently. Who at least hadn’t run off this time, and was still snoring softly.

He winced and sat up slowly, rubbing at his temples as though that would somehow do something to ease the painful throbbing that hovered behind his eyes. God, he needed water. And painkillers. And hopefully to keep them both down because the last time he’d felt this nauseous he’d had food poisoning. Easing himself out of bed, he realised he was at least – mostly – dressed; in a half-buttoned shirt and boxers, anyway. And his medal. He glanced at the clock – only five am, so thank fuck that meant he’d be able to get some more sleep. Three glasses of water and several pills later, JJ brushed his teeth so his mouth felt marginally less disgusting, and crawled back into bed to curl up next to the still-sleeping Otabek, just because he could.

When he woke up again later, there were warm fingers running gently through his hair. He blinked up at Otabek who was sitting beside him, hair a mess but otherwise seemingly none the worse for wear. “How are you feeling?”

“Surprisingly… not like total shit.” He swallowed; his throat was still a little dry, but his headache had faded significantly and he no longer felt like he was in imminent danger of puking. “What happened?”

Otabek regarded him with amusement, hand stilling. “You drank enough to put Katsuki to shame, stood on a table while trying to give a speech, though you were crying so much we couldn’t really tell what you were trying to say. You seemed happy, though.”

JJ closed his eyes again. “I don’t think I really needed to know that.”

“And you told Yuri that you didn’t deserve me, but you wanted me anyway.” JJ froze, cracking one eye open to stare up at Otabek. “You don’t actually need his permission, you know. And nor do I, for that matter.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m afraid not. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to punch you or laugh at you.” The hand in his hair resumed its soft movements. “He eventually settled on the latter.”

JJ groaned and turned onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. “I’m never drinking again.”

“It got me here, didn’t it?” There was a raw note to his voice JJ had never heard before, and what even was this, was this just going to be something they did _as friends_ , now?

“I thought you didn’t do complicated,” JJ mumbled into the pillow. There was a pause as the weight on the bed shifted beside him, and suddenly Otabek was straddling his ass, hands resting on JJ’s lower back.

“You were right,” Otabek said, voice quiet, body heavy and hot through the thin fabric of JJ’s boxers. “It was already complicated. I tried not to think about you.” His hands slid under JJ’s shirt, edging their way upwards. “But it turned out trying not to was more of a distraction than giving in.” There was a silence, a hesitation, and JJ turned his head to one side, trying to catch a glimpse of Otabek’s expression. “I missed talking to you. I realised maybe relying on skype isn’t so bad after all.” A small part of JJ was still waiting for the punchline, to hear that Otabek didn’t mean it after all, perhaps for Yuri to burst in with his phone camera and take him back to when he was eight years old. “What do you think, Jean?”

“Do you remember,” JJ began, even though this _wasn’t the time_ , and why did he never learn when to shut up? “Do you remember the first time we met?”

Otabek’s tilted his head questioningly, fingertips trailing over JJ’s spine. “When I made my introductions at the rink, you mean?”

“No, I—” He closed his eyes, because he was a coward, and focused on the weight and presence of Otabek against his body. Beka was here with him, wasn’t he? “When I smashed my face into the ice.” There was a brief silence, and he felt his heart constrict.

The hands on his back slowed. “I… I guess? It was a pretty impressive jump you were attempting, I’d thought you were going to make it.”

Otabek wasn't laughing. He didn't even sound amused. That… that was it?

“I think about that a lot.” He couldn’t bring himself to say any more, but the silence that followed somehow didn’t feel awkward.

Otabek leaned down until he could kiss the back of JJ’s neck, then murmured in his ear. “Turn over.” JJ swallowed, heart thumping, the quiet order going straight to his dick. He did as he was told, Otabek lifting himself up slightly as he moved. He reached up and settled his hands on Otabek’s waist, pulling him back down so Otabek was sitting heavily on his thighs. “You think I’ve never done the same thing?” JJ stared up at him, at the earnest set of his jaw and the furrowed brow he immediately wanted to smooth away. He reached up and touched a finger to it, grinning as Otabek’s lips parted in surprise. When Otabek spoke again, his voice was soft. “You think too much.”

JJ took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, let’s do this.” And then Otabek leaned down and kissed him, hands firm as they cradled his jaw, and JJ could hardly think at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I commissioned the amazing macherpuppy to do some art for this fic, which you can see [here](http://macherpuppy.tumblr.com/post/165909738917/for-gorgeous-issushaim-3)! They are seriously the best jjbek artist around, please check them out <3


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